


Compelling Kisses

by Sarahtoo



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: But mostly porn, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Missing Scene, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, well maybe a little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 10:07:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8975284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: What if Jack had stayed after the party at the end of Murder Under the Mistletoe?The two of them stood so very close and acted all flirty... maybe Phryne was only opposed to her kisses being compelled in that moment--she was saving them all till later, when they were alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, my fandom friends! I hope this holiday season--whichever holiday you may celebrate--treats you well, and that the coming year treats us all better than this one has. ♥

Jack wasn’t quite sure, later, how he managed to still be standing in Phryne’s parlor when the last of the guests of her Christmas in July celebration had left. He only knew that he was still tingling from how close she’d been standing to him for most of the party. The look in her eyes when she’d said her kisses couldn’t be compelled had been overt invitation, and he’d stumbled over his response to her flirting. _Hemi-parasitic, indeed. Smooth one, Robbo._

He set his whiskey glass on the table in the center of the room and straightened just as Phryne sauntered back through the parlor door, closing it behind her. She was stunning in her gold silk, the bronze shawl floating behind her as she moved lithely toward him. The sway of her hips as she walked gave him ideas that would lead to a very uncomfortable evening if he wasn’t careful.

“Thank you for a lovely party, Miss Fisher,” he said quietly.

“You’re not leaving, Jack?” She moved to stand in front of him, a step too close, and he looked down at her. Her black hair was shiny and smooth in the soft light, and the red flower she’d tucked on one side matched the hue of her lipstick perfectly.

“I thought…” He stopped, not sure what he’d thought. Didn’t she want him to go? She’d intimated that she wasn’t averse to beginning something _more_ with him—she’d practically invited him into her bedchamber at that horrid mansion—but did that mean that she wanted him to stay tonight?

She tucked her fingers under his lapels and slid them upward, stepping closer still. He swallowed, wondering whether it’d be too forward for him to put his hands on her hips. 

“I’d hoped you were planning to stay a while,” she purred, tilting her head back to meet his eyes.

Jack returned her gaze, deciding that her hips were the perfect spot for his hands at this moment. When he touched her, she moved again, pressing herself against him, her hands looping around his neck.

“Kiss me, Jack.” Her words were a whisper, gusting across his lips.

“I’m not sure my kisses can be compelled, Miss Fish—” 

She cut him off, her mouth covering his. Her flavors burst on his tongue, whiskey and waxy lipstick and woman, and he dove into the kiss. He slid his arms around her, one hand at the small of her back where the silk of her dress was warm from her body, and the other moving up to spread between her shoulder blades, his fingertips against her skin. 

Lifting his head slightly, he breathed her name before tilting his head to kiss her again. He knew that she could feel his arousal, and she seemed to pull herself even closer, one arm tightening around his shoulders, one hand stroking up the back of his neck and into his hair. Jack slid the hand on her lower back downward to palm her bottom, and she moaned.

Phryne broke the kiss, her breath coming quickly. 

“Jack,” she breathed, “come upstairs?”

He nodded, unable to muster words, and was rewarded by the flash of her smile. She stepped backward, her hands sliding down his arms to twine her fingers with his, and gently pulled him toward the door. Dropping one of his hands to open the parlor doors, she sang out “Good night, Mr. B!” and headed up the stairs. Jack swallowed again, realizing that her estimable staff would no doubt know that he’d not left for the evening. He felt as if that should matter, but it really didn’t. He’d risk more than the scorn of Mr. Butler and Miss Williams to have this night in Phryne’s bed. 

The acknowledgement, at least to himself, that this was what he wanted was empowering. He felt his confidence surge, and when Phryne looked over her shoulder at him, he let himself smile with a wicked intent. Her eyes widened, and her smile brightened, her tongue coming out to touch her upper lip. He focused on that pink tongue and heard her suck in a breath.

“Jack…”

“Phryne.” His voice was rough with desire, and he surged up the stairs to press against her back, his mouth coming to cover hers again, touching that tongue with his own. He felt her free hand come to rest on the side of his face; his free hand slid around her waist, spreading wide against her stomach, his thumb just brushing the bottom of her breast.

“Bed, Jack,” she murmured against his lips, but she didn’t move. He opened his eyes a crack to see that hers were still closed.

“Bed,” he agreed, and her eyes fluttered open, meeting his. It was her turn to nod mutely, and he kissed her again, a soft peck, before moving his hand to the small of her back to give her a tiny nudge. She smiled and took the last few steps quickly; he followed, tugged by the hand. His palm on her back slid downward as she stepped up, and he molded her buttock, his thumb nestling in the crease of her bottom. The glance she cast over her shoulder was surprised but pleased.

“I’ve been thinking about this since I steadied you when we broke in at 3JH,” he said, squeezing lightly.

“So have I, inspector.” She turned at the top of the stairs and pulled him through the door to her bedroom, turning to face him as he followed her.

Jack caught the door as he went past and gave it a push to close it; he heard it shut with a thunk, but didn’t look back. Instead, he stepped close to Phryne again, taking a deep breath. The room smelled like her, redolent with the scents she wore, and its rich colors encouraged its inhabitants to luxuriate in sensation. So he did, pressing his mouth to hers again, their hands disengaging so that they could grasp each other’s bodies.

Jack stroked one hand to her back, the other moving up from her waist—he’d intended to put his hand on her face, but then he was cupping her breast and she was moaning. He could feel her nipple through the thin material of her dress, and her breast fit his palm perfectly, its weight a sweet welcome. He ran his thumb over the hardened peak, urging her hips to press against his as his tongue slid into her mouth to duel with hers. 

Phryne’s hands were between them, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his waistcoat, then his shirt. Her fingers were agile and quick, and he groaned when she slid her hands inside to touch his chest through only the thin fabric of his undershirt. Unwilling to let go of her breast, he slid his hand from her back to the discreet hook-and-eye closures that ran down the side of her dress, popping them open one by one. The silk of her dress gave way to the silk of her underthings, and he slid his hand inside to search out the silk of her skin.

“God, Jack, take this off!” Phryne’s words were a gasp as she pushed at the layers of clothing over his shoulders. 

Regretfully, he stepped back from her, undoing his cufflinks; she lifted her hands to the red flower brooch that held her bronze silk shawl in place. Laying the brooch on the bedside table one-handed, she unwound the shawl to bare her shoulders as he was shrugging out of jacket and waistcoat to toss them to her chaise; he pulled his braces off as she crossed her arms in front of her chest, gathering her dress and pulling it up and over her head in one smooth motion. He groaned, stripping off shirt and then undershirt as quickly as he could manage, even as he toed off his shoes.

“Phryne,” he said, moving close again to trace one fingertip along the lace at the top edge of her dark red silk camisole. “You are so beautiful.” He drew his breath in with a gasp as she laid her hands on his bare chest, his eyes fluttering momentarily closed as she stroked his skin, her hands soft and warm.

“And you, Jack,” she murmured, pressing her lips to his shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about the body your sober suits hide since that day on the beach.” She scraped her fingernails lightly across his nipples. “So much power here…” Dipping her head, she touched her tongue to his nipple—he sucked a sharp breath into his lungs—her hands stroking his chest and belly before sliding around to grasp his back. 

She lifted her face to his, and he kissed her again, more urgently now, his hands dropping to her waist to pull the camisole up, baring her breasts. He cupped both breasts now, skin on skin, and he thought he might explode from the pleasure of it. With a gasp, he pulled his mouth from hers and bent to take one hardened nipple in his mouth. Her flavor burst on his tongue, that same womanly essence that her mouth carried, slightly salty and carrying the acidic tang of perfume. Phryne whimpered his name, reaching to pull the camisole all the way off, and he switched breasts. Her nipples fit perfectly in his cupped tongue, and he suckled them in turn, his fingers teasing the opposite one. 

Jack closed his eyes, experiencing her through taste and smell and touch; he was acutely aware of her fingers tunnelling into his hair and pulling, of her small whimpers of pleasure, of the rising scent of her arousal. He dropped to his knees, trailing his mouth down her sternum to her belly, dropping kisses along the taut muscles there. He’d been dreaming of this since he’d seen her do her fan dance—longer, if he was honest. Her Cleopatra costume had bared this belly, and it had been all he could do to keep from ravishing her while Guy and Isabella’s party raged one floor below, a fact that had shamed him, having come to her directly from the finalization of his divorce. 

There was no shame now, and he wallowed in the scent of her, the feel of her skin; he dipped his tongue into her navel, then softly along the delicate lace that edged the top of her knickers. Burying his nose in the juncture of her thighs, he inhaled; hooking his fingers in the waistband, he glanced up at her for permission.

Her eyes were dilated, their beautiful blue-green irises only a thin rim around the blackness of her pupils. He tugged at her knickers just a little, tilting his head at her in a silent question, and she nodded, her mouth shaping his name soundlessly. Holding her gaze, he pulled the knickers down, running his fingertips behind them from her hips to her ankles, before dropping his gaze to her feet to watch her step quickly out of them, her bronze-leather heels flashing against the deep red of the silk. Trailing his fingers and his gaze back up her legs, he traced the softness of her dark stockings to their tops, toying lightly with the tiny red roses that topped the stocking clips hanging from her red garter belt. 

With a groan, he grasped her thighs, urging her to widen her stance, and pressed his mouth to her. She keened at the first touch of his tongue between her legs, and her hands in his hair clenched. Jack angled his head to touch more of her, but soon became frustrated with how little he could reach. Pulling his head back, he surged to his feet, kissing her mouth and backing her toward the bed. When her knees hit the edge of the mattress, he crowded her a little more and her knees buckled. 

He stood for a moment, looking down at her; Phryne’s attention was captured by the bulge at the front of his trousers, and her hands followed her eyes. She molded his length between her fingers, stroking his hardness with one hand while her other cupped his scrotum. Jack relished the feeling of her hands on him, his hands combing into her hair and dislodging the red-rose fascinator that she still wore. He untangled it and set it aside with her brooch even as Phryne began to unfasten his trousers.

“Oh, not yet, love,” he murmured, catching her hands. “I haven’t finished.” 

“Jack, please.” Her voice was soft and hoarse, and he looked forward to making her call that phrase out louder.

He knelt, keeping her hands in his until he was situated between her spread knees; letting go of her hands, he reached down to unbuckle her shoes, then pushed her knees open wider, tucking his shoulders underneath first one, then the other. Phryne’s hands roamed over his skin, her fingernails scraping along his shoulders, then up his neck before her hands fisted in his hair again.

“Now, Jack!” 

“So demanding,” he murmured, and laid his mouth over her pussy. Using his thumbs to open her up, he licked her, first in long, leisurely swipes then in smaller strokes, drawing her clit into his mouth to gently suckle before moving down to thrust his tongue inside her body. 

As he worked her, he listened to the noises she made, repeating the caresses that made her gasp, abandoning those that didn’t seem to excite her as much, and cataloguing each one in his head for the next time. _God, I hope there will be a next time._

“Oh! Jack,” she moaned, “Oh, Jack! Yes, there, please, Jack…” He slid a finger inside her body, one hand dropping to his lap to undo his trousers and grasp himself, putting pressure on his cock to keep himself from coming from the sound and scent and taste of her pleasure.

“Jack! God, yes, Jack!” Her hands in his hair were pulling now, and her hips surged against his mouth and hand. He slid another finger into her, curling them slightly as he pumped them to stroke her inner walls. “Oh fuck, Jack, please… oh please… Jack… Jack! JACK!” She called his name as she came, her passage clamping down on his fingers and her thighs shaking, her heels digging into the muscles of his back; he smiled against her even as he continued to move his tongue. This was a moment that he’d like to recreate over and over again.

When she went limp, he stood, shoving his trousers down as he did so, and catching his socks to push them off as well. She had fallen back against the coverlet, and she lay there, panting, her eyes on him and a soft smile on her face.

Jack climbed onto the bed beside her even as she pushed herself up toward the pillows, one hand reaching to pull his face to hers to kiss him again.

*****

 _Good god, who knew that Jack Robinson was so good with his mouth?_ Phryne kissed him, her tongue sweeping across his lips to clean him of her fluids. She should have known, she supposed—she’d been examining that mouth every chance she got over the past year. And not just his mouth, either—she’d enjoyed seeing him in his bathing costume at the beach, those wide shoulders making her mouth water. And his legs! He had thighs that gave her _ideas_. 

With a smile, she leaned up and over him, pushing him backward as she straddled him. Jack’s hands went to her hips as she slid the wet flesh between her thighs along the length of his cock, her mouth on his.

Moving to sit up, she smiled down at him and unhooked her stockings from her garter belt, then removed the belt itself, tossing it away. He groaned as she shifted against him, careful not to crush anything of importance. Bending one knee up, she began rolling her stocking down and off. His hands flexed against her, his eyes on her leg, and his hips pulsing warmly against her. She could feel the hard length of him against her sex, and with every shift of her hips, his cock put pressure against her clitoris.

“Phryne…” His already deep voice had deepened even more, and Phryne smiled a little.

“Yes, Jack?” Her voice was a purr, her smile feline as she tormented him. She didn’t need him to beg—at least, not this time—but it was delicious to see Jack’s control cracking. She’d wanted him so much, for so long, that it seemed only fair. Phryne had hoped to get to this point when they were in Queenscliff, but he’d been so adamant about being on duty. And then, given the opportunity at the mountain chalet, he’d passed it up, citing risk. Now he was finally in her bed, between her thighs, and she wanted to make it last.

“Please,” he whispered, his hips pressing into hers.

“Just one more stocking, Jack—these are French, and I wouldn’t want to ruin them.” 

Jack’s hands on her hips slid upward to cover her breasts, and Phryne pushed her nipples into his palms as she shifted to remove her other stocking. His eyes were avid, flicking between her hands on her leg, his hands on her breasts, and her face.

“Hurry, Phryne,” he groaned, “I want to be inside you.”

“I confess, I’ve wanted you inside me for a long time, Jack,” she whispered, tossing the second stocking over her vanity chair. She leaned forward to set her hands on his shoulders, her knees on either side of his hips; his skin was smooth and warm beneath her fingers, his cock hard and demanding between her thighs. “And now that I’ve got you where I want you, I don’t want it to go too fast.”

“I’ve been thinking about this almost since our first meeting,” he said hoarsely, his hands shifting on her breasts so that her nipples poked out between his first two fingers. “I have dreamed of you wearing nothing but my overcoat after you came out of that sauna.”

She raised her head in confusion, her hips stilling. “But Jack, you didn’t lend me your coat—Hugh found my clothes piled outside the sauna door!” 

His hands dropped to her hips again, urging her to continue to move against him. “I know. But the idea of you sweaty and naked under that overcoat has been very… stimulating.” He arched his hips, pressing against her. She gasped, rolling her hips in response. 

“Please, Phryne,” he said through gritted teeth. “I promise, if it goes too fast, we can do it again.”

“Well, as long as you promise…” She slid one hand down his chest, stroking over his tensed pectoral muscle to lightly pinch his nipple, then down between their bodies to grasp his cock, pleased to note that her fingers didn’t overlap as she wrapped her hand around him. 

“Condom?” His voice was tight, and he’d arched his neck to look down their bodies to where her hand lay. She stroked him, sliding from his tip down to his root, then back up to grasp him beneath his cockhead.

“No need,” she replied. “I was hopeful that the evening would end this way. It’s taken care of.” She glanced down between them, stroking him once more before placing the head of his cock at the entrance to her body. She bit her lip as she pushed down, her eyes fluttering closed as his girth stretched her inner muscles. They both moaned as her body enveloped his; Jack’s hands on her hips gripped tightly, as if he was struggling not to hurry her. When she’d taken him to the hilt, she paused and leaned forward to kiss him, her mouth avid on his.

“You feel so good, Jack,” she whispered into his mouth as her hips pulsed against his, moving slightly. 

“Phryne… so good…” he responded, his voice low and deep. He was pressing his hips lightly into hers, searching for friction.

“Jack…” She breathed his name as she pushed herself up, her hands spreading on his chest. She met his eyes as she began to move, using her knees to slide herself up his length before plunging down again. The first strokes were slow, and she arched her back, closing her eyes to concentrate on the sensation of his cock advancing and withdrawing through her sensitive tissues. Her fingers curled against his chest, her fingernails scraping his nipples, as she picked up speed. Jack’s hands on her hips guided her motions, and he raised his hips with every stroke, pushing himself more deeply inside her body. With a groan, he levered himself up on one hand and pressed his mouth to her breast, his tongue slicking over her nipple before he latched on to suckle.

Phryne could feel each pull of his mouth as a tightening spring within her body; she slid a hand into his hair, her other hand gripping his shoulder, her fingernails biting into his skin as her rhythm increased. The room filled with the sounds of slapping flesh, breathy cries, and soft moans; the scent of their sweat and sex rose around them. 

One of Jack’s big hands slid up Phryne’s back to tangle in her hair; Phryne tilted her head to bring her lips back to his, her tongue darting into his mouth in a mimicry of the thrusting of his flesh into her body. 

“Phryne… Oh god,” Jack groaned into her mouth, “I’m close…”

“Put your fingers on me, Jack,” she whispered, her lips and teeth colliding messily with his as she tried to speak without breaking their kiss. 

He obeyed, sliding the hand on her hip between her legs, two fingers circling the stiff nubbin of her clit. Phryne kissed him harder, her breath coming in pants as he toyed with her and she fucked him. Jack kissed her back, his tongue thrusting against hers, his hand in her hair fisting; she felt the pull against her head as another point of pleasure, drawing a taut line that ran the length of her body. Jack did an odd twist of his fingers between her legs, and the tension coiled in her belly released in a wave. Her whole body seized, heat spearing through her, muscles clenching as she ground her pelvis down against his; he pulled his hand around her hip to press into the soft flesh of her bottom, holding her against him. She cried his name into his mouth and heard him cry hers in return as he came, his hips jerking. 

As their breathing settled, they sat wrapped around each other, kissing softly. Phryne would usually, at this point in lovemaking, swing off to the side for a post-coital snuggle, but she could feel Jack’s cock softening inside her, and something about the intimacy of that connection to this man held her in place. He had been in her thoughts for so long, and now that she had him in her bed, she intended to keep him there as long as she could.

His big hand stroked up her back as his mouth worked on hers. She wasn’t surprised at how much she enjoyed his kisses—the one at Cafe Repliqué had sparked in her imagination over and over—but in this calm after the storm, she felt as if she could never get enough of his flavor or the feel of him pressed tightly against her. 

The thought should have been terrifying, given that she’d avoided long-term dalliances for more than ten years, but this was Jack. Jack, who was her friend first, and would, she hoped, be her friend last. Jack, whose appreciation of her intelligence and drive was unstinting. Jack, who never asked her to be someone she was not. So she rested against him, her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her mouth on his, for a long time.

Eventually, they had to separate, and Phryne slid to one side, her hand resting on his chest.

“Stay, Jack?” She asked the question lightly, but she felt herself tense as she waited for his answer, relaxing only when he smiled, his expression slightly bashful and wholly pleased. 

“I’d love to. I don’t have any pajamas, though.” As he spoke, they each slid off the bed on opposite sides. Without discussion, they pulled the covers down and flipped off the lamps, leaving the room awash in moonlight. 

“I have just the thing,” Phryne said, rounding the bed to her lingerie chest. Opening a drawer, she drew out a set of men’s pajamas. Separating the top and bottoms, she handed the latter to Jack with a smirk. “Don’t worry, Jack—Mr. Butler purchased these with you in mind.” 

His expression was wondering, and he searched her eyes as he took the garment from her. She saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, but when he spoke, it was in his usual calm tone.

“I don’t get the top?” He stepped into the pants, which fit him perfectly. Mr. Butler was a wonder.

“Oh no, that’s for me.” She pulled the pajama shirt over her head; the hem fell just to the tops of her thighs, and the buttons came only to a spot between her breasts. “There, that’ll do. For now.” Her grin was cheeky as she moved back around the bed to slide under the covers.

He tilted his head at her before climbing back into bed and tucking his muscular thighs under the doona. “Planning to ravish me, Miss Fisher?”

“Mmm, definitely.” She snuggled in beside him, resting a hand on his chest and settling her chin atop it. “It could take some time. We’ll need to make sure you keep your strength up.”

“I will need to return to work eventually.” He wrapped an arm around her, his broad hand flat on her back as he pulled the covers up and over them, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “But tomorrow’s my day off.”

“Good,” she said, stifling a yawn as she turned her head to lay her cheek on his chest, her hand moving down to wrap around his waist. “I hope you didn’t have plans.”

“I’ve learned that it’s never good to make plans around you,” he murmured. “You never follow them, and yet things always work out.” She laughed quietly, able to hear the smile in his voice.

“Keeps things interesting, that’s all.”

“In the best possible way.” He kissed her again, and let out a contented sigh.

“Merry Christmas, Jack,” she whispered.

“Merry Christmas, Miss Fisher,” he replied, his deep voice rumbling beneath her ear. “Thank you for my present.” He shifted slightly, wrapping his other arm around her as well. 

Phryne turned her head to lay a soft kiss against his skin. “Thank you for _being_ my present.” 

She felt his chuckle reverberate through his chest and closed her eyes, feeling warm and comfortable tucked up against him. She smiled even as she slipped into sleep. He might be the best gift she’d ever received, and she looked forward to unwrapping him again in the morning. 


End file.
